During their sixty years, it was him:

Always the one thinking big, dreaming

Of contour maps of the shires,

The rapid spread of forest fires,

Views of the moon, magnified,

Deserts, stretching far and wide.

How the diamonds glinted

And his projects hinted

At non-stop, love-soaked fun,

At daring days blessed with sun.

 

While she focused on the miniature:

Collecting particles of sand, sending

Invisible postcards to all;

The distant sunsets seemed too small

To fit in his ambition,

Yet vast for her rendition

Of carefully separated,

Sprinkled, sparkling dust, elevated

To a life, to a meaning.

To one red-coloured evening.